


there is thunder in our hearts

by SugarFey



Series: The Sky Is Here For Both Of Us [5]
Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/pseuds/SugarFey
Summary: She can live without Naomi Nagata. She has her work and her service to the Belt. But somehow, without knowing when or why, Naomi has become as much a part of her as the design on her neck, the air in her lungs or the smooth weight of a gun in her hands.Maybe it was always going to end this way.





	there is thunder in our hearts

**Author's Note:**

> *drum roll* And now, the conclusion to The Sky Is Here For Both Of Us. As with all the other fics in this series, it can also be read as a standalone. Many thanks to L and holdenscoffee (spacebarista) for discussing this story and giving me feedback.
> 
> Warnings: mentions of sexual harassment, violence and the effects of PTSD.

It takes almost a year before Drummer lets Naomi convince her to go down to the clubs again. She can move more freely now, and she’s working on getting her old swagger back into her step. She’s even gone to her old bar a few times while Naomi has been off flying with the _Roci_. Picked up a few women too, as per their arrangement. A girl’s got to scratch her itches. 

Dancing, though, is another step entirely, and she feels uncharacteristically self-conscious when Naomi pulls her out onto the floor. 

“C’mon!” Naomi shouts over the pounding music. “It’ll come back to you.” 

Drummer finds herself dragged into the crush of bodies, bumped and jostled. The music is the kind of thumping beat you feel as much as hear. Purple and blue lights flash overhead, bouncing off the buttons at Naomi’s collar. Naomi throws her head back, laughing at some unknown thing, and drapes her arms around Drummer’s neck. 

It’s easy enough to sway from side to side. It’s not as though club dancing is particularly complex. Drummer closes her eyes, lets the music and Naomi’s smooth skin and the gin in her belly send her blood fizzing. 

The music rises to a fever pitch, gaining in speed and power. Years ago, this would have been just Drummer’s style. She used to love blowing off steam with the most aggressive, thudding bass available. But in this new reality; this new state of normal which includes hours of physical therapy and pain treatment, her spine simply cannot keep up the relentless pace.

Drummer puts her hands on Naomi’s twisting hips to draw her closer. “You keep going,” she says. “I’ll take a break.” 

“You sure?” Naomi is still moving in time, as though the music has become part of her body. 

Drummer hooks a finger into Naomi’s belt loop and purrs into her ear. “I want to watch.” 

Leaving Naomi to ponder that thought, Drummer makes her way through the heaving crowd to a spot by the bar. The bartender pours her a glass of Ganymede gin before she has to ask. Running this station has its perks. She raises the drink in a toast to the bartender, then settles in to watch Naomi go. 

Naomi moves like liquid when she dances. The masses circle and sway in patterns around her, planets to her blazing sun. Drummer catches Naomi’s eye and holds it, lifting her glass to take a long, slow sip. She has plans they will both enjoy later. In the meantime, she will enjoy the view. 

The club becomes stifling as even more people pack into the small space, the music rising to a thudding volume. Naomi is still dancing in the centre when a burly man crowds into her, blocking her with his bulk as he grabs her ass. 

_Fuck. That._  

Drummer slams her drink down on the counter and shoves the nearest person out of the way as she launches herself into the crush of dancers. Naomi is pushing the man’s chest, clearly uncomfortable. She shouts something but the music is too loud for Drummer to make out the words. 

Drummer reaches them just as the man slides his hands over Naomi again. He towers over them both, but she hasn’t been managing Tycho’s security for over a decade for nothing. In a flash she grabs hold of his outstretched arm and uses the force of his own weight to twist his wrist and elbow up behind his back, feeling the satisfying pop in his shoulder socket. 

“Leave her be,” she snarls, “or I will space you myself.”

The people around them back away in a frenzy of shouts and gasps. Drummer is vaguely aware of Naomi yelling something, of someone pulling on her shoulders, but she isn’t done yet. The man stinks of beer and old sweat and he swears violently when she yanks on his arm. Drummer kicks his ankle out from under him, letting him collapse to the floor. 

“Easy, easy, _bosmang!”_ he pleads, holding his shoulder. “Didn’t know she was your territory.” 

“My _territory?_ ”

She’s pulling her fist back, ready to strike, when she catches sight of Naomi’s horrified face.

 

* * *

Naomi keeps a tight silence until they reach Drummer’s quarters. That silence bursts the moment the door locks and Naomi rounds on Drummer with fury burning in her voice. 

“What the _fuck_ , Camina?” 

“He had his hands on you,” Drummer spits, still fuming at the thought of him. He doesn’t get to do that, not on her fucking station. 

“And I was about to get rid of him before you came charging in! You’re the one who wanted to keep us a secret, now you’ve gone and announced it to the whole bloody station.” 

Drummer waves a hand dismissively. “He was drunk; no one will believe him.”

Naomi stares at her and lets out an incredulous laugh. “And everyone else in the club? They were all tripping the same thing, is that it?” 

“I was trying to protect you!” Drummer shouts, seriously angry now. 

Naomi shakes her head, colour draining from her face. “Well, I don’t need protecting.” Her voice is low, dangerously so. “Not by you, not by Holden, not anyone, got that? I saved your life, Camina. I killed Diogo _for you._ What, you think just because I don’t use violence to solve every fucking problem, that I’m weak?” 

It’s Naomi underestimating her on the _Behemoth_ all over again. Drummer’s lip curls, hurt and anger drawing her arms behind her back into her captain’s posture even as a voice in her brain is screaming that it’s too much. “Is that what you think of me? After all this time, you honestly think I’d call you weak? That I use violence like it’s nothing?”

Naomi takes a step back, her arms crossed over her chest and her mouth pressed into a thin line.

Drummer smiles bitterly as she advances. “Come now, Naomi. Don’t hold back on me.” 

Naomi keeps shaking her head, staggering slightly back towards the door, her eyes wide. “I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

She fumbles for the controls, and before Drummer can say anything, before she can even realise that this is happening again, that Naomi is _leaving,_ Naomi is gone.

 

* * *

 

There are three things Drummer will resort to when anger takes hold. Booze, work and working out. Her shift starts in an hour, so booze is out of the question. Instead, Drummer barricades herself in a cargo bay corner which she adapted into her personal gym many years ago. She’s gotten plenty of use out of it. 

Stripped down to her tank top and leggings, she lines up the punching bag and lets loose. Over and over, she hits the bag until her lungs are screaming and her spine shoots spikes of pain through her body. 

She ignores the pain’s warning and throws hook after hook, sweat dripping down her face and neck. One right swing misses wildly and her knees buckle. She doubles over, panting, finally spent. 

Eventually she catches her breath enough to collapse onto the metal bench and dry her face with a towel.  She stares out at the distant stars glittering through the tiny observation window, and wonders if the _Rocinante_ has already left the docks. 

She can live without Naomi Nagata. She has her work and her service to the Belt. But somehow, without knowing when or why, Naomi has become as much a part of her as the design on her neck, the air in her lungs or the smooth weight of a gun in her hands. Maybe it was always going to end like this. Maybe there was no reconciling Naomi’s goodness with the rage boiling beneath her skin. Hell, it’s probably what she deserves. 

And yet, be it on the _Behemoth_ or on Tycho, that part of her will always be waiting for Naomi to come back. 

She stands up to punch the bag again, to channel the feelings through her fists. 

“Camina?” 

That voice stops her dead in her tracks. 

When Drummer turns, Naomi is hovering by a stack of crates a few feet away. Her arms are crossed and her shoulders are hunched forward so that Drummer can’t tell if she’s angry or afraid. Her eyes are puffy and deepened by shadows. 

“Can we talk?” 

They might as well get this over with. At least Naomi has come to say goodbye this time. “Speak your mind.” 

Naomi uncrosses her arms, but doesn’t come any closer. “Fred Johnson told me you were here.” 

Of course he did. She never discusses her personal life; what little of it there is, with Fred, but he has known her long enough to read her tells. 

Drummer strips the wraps from her hands, trying to give herself something to focus on while she prepares for Naomi to say that things are done between them, that she cannot do this, that Drummer isn’t worth the trouble. 

“I shouldn’t have walked out the way I did,” Naomi says, her voice thick. “I wasn’t thinking and I don’t like the way we left things. But you scared me.”

“Scared you?” Whatever Drummer was expecting, it wasn’t this. Did Naomi believe she would hurt her? Did she honestly think—oh. Right. 

This isn’t about Drummer at all. This is about Naomi and her demons and the scars she carries. This is about a man who killed her trust and replaced it with fear. The thought that Drummer could have reminded Naomi of him is sickening. 

“I shouldn’t have got pissed off,” she says, considering every word with a care she normally lacks. “I let my temper get hold of me. No excuses for that. I’m sorry.” 

Naomi startles, her posture still tensing as though she was expecting another fight. She studies Drummer carefully, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, and Drummer hates the shame churning in her stomach. 

“When I left, I…” Naomi trails off, visibly trying to control her breathing. “It wasn’t you I saw. My mind went somewhere else. Like tunnel vision. I could only think of getting out.” 

Drummer knows she should be saying something, anything, but her mind only throws up blanks. A lifetime of shutting herself off has left her pretty shit at comforting others. Maybe this is what Naomi gets from Holden. 

“I’m sorry,” is all she can manage. 

Naomi steps forward, the distance between them growing just that little bit smaller. “I believe you.” 

Drummer holds her breath, desperate to close the gap but knowing that this is not her decision to make. “Do you still trust me?” 

Naomi takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t always agree with the way you do things. But you’ve never lied to me, or tried to manipulate me. So, yeah. I trust you.” 

It’s the honesty that is Drummer’s undoing. Her world is full of liars and con men and people with agendas. Even Fred will lie to her if he feels the need. 

“Naomi…” Her voice cracks. 

“Oh, Camina.” In seconds, Naomi’s arms are around Drummer’s waist, pulling her into a deep kiss. 

Drummer’s surprise melts into relief as Naomi presses her body against hers, fingers digging into her hips. Drummer brings her hand up to cup the back of Naomi’s neck, grounding herself in the warmth of Naomi’s arms. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” she says, when they break apart. 

“I couldn’t stay away.” Naomi kisses her again, desperately. Drummer can taste the wet salt on her cheeks. “I love you too much for that.” 

Drummer can’t think what to say, could not even begin to know how, because words are her weakness and Naomi tears her open so completely, until her heart is raw and bleeding in her chest. 

She twists Naomi’s collar in her fingers and pulls her impossibly closer, wishing she could lose herself. They stand wrapped in each other’s arms and foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. 

“I think I’m always going to be looking over my shoulder,” Naomi sighs. “Things are going to remind me and I can’t necessarily control how I’ll react. But I love you. And I need you and Jim in my life.”

Drummer trails kisses along Naomi’s jaw before meeting her lips again. “ _Kori mi,_ ” she gasps, the heat between them flaming up into a blaze. “Always. You already know it.”

Naomi slides her hands under Drummer’s tank top, heedless of any cameras or people who might find them. “I know. Camina, I know.” 

It will never be perfect, could never even come close to perfect, but they are here, and they are enough.


End file.
